


i'll go (wherever you are)

by carissima



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angry Sex, Emotional Hurt, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Post-Zayn One Direction, Solo Artist Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6745957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam isn’t quite sure what happens next, but he’s got two hands full of Zayn’s shirt and their faces are inches apart. He’s breathing heavily and he’s as close to losing control as he’s ever been in his life. Zayn’s staring back at him and for the first time ever, Liam doesn’t recognise him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll go (wherever you are)

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to write fix-it fic over a year ago. um, sorry for the delay??
> 
> thank you ani for the beta, you're always there when i need you!! :D
> 
> you can find me [here](http://lovedyouless.tumblr.com/) :)

Liam is trying to follow the conversation but if he’s being honest, he lost the thread about ten minutes ago. If he keeps smiling and nodding though – a trick he learned from Niall – then he might be able to extricate himself without being rude. He’s been nursing a half-empty glass for a while, but as he tips his head back to finish it off, someone catches his eye and he freezes.

“Excuse me, mate,” he murmurs, his feet already carrying away from the music producer he’s meant to be wooing. He’s vaguely aware that he’s grinning stupidly, his arms lifting automatically to wrap around skinny, familiar shoulders. He buries his face into Zayn’s neck and crushes his old bandmate in a bear hug that makes Zayn huff in surprised laughter.

“Hi,” Liam says. He’s got his eyes squeezed shut and Zayn’s hair is tickling his face and it’s so familiar that it hurts.

“Hey,” Zayn says, and Liam realises it’s the first time he’s heard Zayn’s voice in months. “S’good to see you, mate.”

Liam pulls back, although he keeps his hands on Zayn’s arms like he’s keeping him in place, and beams at him. “Yeah, you too. How’ve you been?”

“Good, yeah.” Zayn’s smile is easier than Liam remembers. “How’s the break?”

“Mate, it’s been amazing,” Liam tells him with a laugh, pleased when Zayn’s eyes crinkle in acknowledgement.

“I thought you’d be bored by now,” Zayn teases and something familiar blooms in Liam’s chest that he hadn’t even realised he’d been missing. “Climbing the walls and pestering everyone to get back to work.”

It’s so close to the truth of how Liam’s feeling that he tugs Zayn into another back-breaking hug. “I’ve missed you,” he says honestly.

He feels Zayn’s hands fist into his shirt. “Me too, Liam,” Zayn whispers. “Me too.”

It’s easy then to pull Zayn into a quiet corner away from curious eyes. It’s easy for Liam to admit that he loves the new album and how proud he is of Zayn. It’s easy to tell Zayn how bored he’s been at home. He’s memorised and mastered every recipe in Jamie Oliver’s latest book and he’s spent far too many hours trying to teach Watson tricks that the dog refuses to learn.

“I swear, he’ll do it if my mum asks but he ignores me,” Liam swears. “He completely mugs me off.”

Zayn’s laughing softly and they’re leaning in towards each other. If Liam tries really hard, he can pretend that the rest of the party doesn’t exist, and that it’s just him and Zayn catching up. Like old times.

It feels really fucking good.

“You’re too soft,” Zayn tells him. “You can’t help it, mate.”

“That’s what Louis says,” Liam says before he can stop himself. And winces inwardly.

Zayn’s face clouds over and moves back just a little. To Liam, it feels like a fucking mile.

“How is Louis?” Zayn asks eventually when the silence between them stretches thin.

“He’s good,” Liam says carefully. “Loving being a father.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Zayn murmurs. “Seems like a right fucking mess.”

Liam inhales sharply. He’d visited Louis and Freddie yesterday, and Liam’s never seen Louis look so bloody happy. He’d even been humming under his breath while he’d changed his son’s nappy. Not that Zayn would know, since there’s been radio silence between the two of them since that stupid twitter spat two years ago. Liam tries not to pick sides in fights, generally. He’s not a peacemaker by nature like Niall, but he’s not an instigator like Louis either. He just wants everyone to be mates and to be mates with everyone.

“He’s making it work,” Liam says, perhaps a little sharper than he should. He’s used to defending Louis. He’s just not used to defending Louis from Zayn.

“So he can make an effort when he wants to then,” Zayn mutters.

Liam’s always objectively known how hot Zayn is. He’s not blind and he’s not prone to lying to himself either. He’s seen Zayn hungover. He’s seen him blind fucking drunk. He’s seen him high, and he’s seen him in mid-argument, shouting and raging. And he’s always, always been beautiful.

Right now though, he looks ugly. And bitter. It’s not the Zayn he knows. It’s not the Zayn he _knew_.

“Freddie’s his son,” Liam says flatly. “Not an ex-bandmate who walked out on us without a word and who spent the last year badmouthing us whenever possible.”

He watches Zayn’s face go blank, like shutters slamming down. “You knew I was unhappy. You all fucking knew. Don’t pretend like you didn’t see it coming, Liam. Everyone fucking _knew_.”

“You could have talked to us,” Liam says, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “We tried to make it easier for you. It was one more year, Zayn. One fucking year.”

“One more year of being fucking miserable,” Zayn laughs, but it’s an ugly sound. “One more year of pretending to enjoy singing the same shitty songs night after night. One more year of answering the same fucking questions. I couldn’t fucking do it, Liam.”

“The rest of us managed to do it, Zayn,” Liam argues. He’s trying to keep his voice down and a quick glance behind him tells him that he’s doing a shit job of it. “You fucking left us, Zayn. You left all of us.” You left me, he screams silently.

“I had to.” Zayn’s leaning back in towards him but it’s not cosy like before. He’s angry and worked up, and Liam’s never been on the receiving end of it before. “I had to leave and you just cut me off. All of you. You acted like I never fucking existed. I spent years pretending for the sake of the band and you just cut me out like I didn’t fucking matter.”

“Because you left!” Liam shouts.

The silence around them is fucking deafening.

He knows everyone’s looking at them. He can feel every pair of eyes staring at them and he can’t do this anymore.

Without looking at Zayn, he turns around and heads into the crowd, who suddenly start talking again. He can hear his and Zayn’s names being whispered all around them and he needs to get out of here. It’s too hot and too crowded and he needs some air.

The warm LA air hits him hard and Liam finds himself leaning against the wall, breathing heavily and trying to resist taking out his phone and calling Louis.

Eventually, he feels Paddy’s hand on his shoulder and with a wan smile for his bodyguard, Liam lets himself be guided into his car and driven back to his rental home.

“You should take the afternoon off,” he tells Paddy on a whim. He’s spent every single minute with Liam so far – after all, that’s what Liam’s paying him for even though they both forget sometimes that they have a business relationship. Paddy’s a mate, but Liam doesn’t want company right now. He wants to wallow. Losing Zayn the first time had been the hardest blow Liam’s ever had, but he had the lads to lean on at the time. He’d spent so many hours letting Louis lean on him and trying to cheer up Niall and letting Harry talk that he’d barely had a moment to process his own feelings. He’d just felt bereft, like a piece of him had gone with Zayn. But it hadn’t felt like this. He’s angry and hurt and what he really needs to do is punch something. So he strips off his shirt and tailored trousers, swapping them for basketball shorts and a vest before heading to the gym room.

He hits the punching bag hard enough to feel the vibrations right down to his toes. His swings are measured and smooth, flexing muscles he hasn’t exercised in a long time. Every punch makes him feel a little better. He replays everything from his and Zayn’s conversation and punches out every frustration. He swings until his arms feel like lead and he can’t lift them anymore. Sweat is pouring off him and even his legs feel a little unsteady.

It’s only when he stops to lean his arms against the punching bag that he hears the doorbell ringing. It’s insistent, like someone’s leaning on it, and he knows exactly who it is.

When he flings the door open, he has to take a step back because Zayn’s there, pushing into his space like he’s never done in the past. It’s always been an invitation, freely offered and accepted, but now Zayn moves in without his permission and Liam feels violated.

Instinct makes him throw his hands up to shove Zayn away. He stumbles into the wall and Liam instinctively reaches for him.

“Get off me,” Zayn bites out, and Liam pulls his hands back, confused. “Not so easy to ignore me when I’m here, right?”

“No, it’s much easier when you run away and hide,” Liam snaps back. “What are you even doing here?”

“I thought we could talk,” Zayn says, glaring at him. He’s leaning against the wall and his hands are bunched into fists. “I thought years of friendship might be worth salvaging. Obviously not though.”

Liam’s heart is pounding so loudly he thinks Zayn might be able to hear it. “Oh, so now you want to talk? Why couldn’t you have talked two years ago? Everything has to be on your terms, doesn’t it?”

“Is that you talking or Louis?” Zayn asks obnoxiously.

“Oh fuck off, mate,” Liam says angrily. “I can speak for myself.”

“So say what you want to say then, mate,” Zayn goads him. He takes a step forward, back into Liam’s space. “Come on, then.”

“Back off, Zayn,” Liam warns.

“Or what?”

Liam isn’t quite sure what happens next, but he’s got two hands full of Zayn’s shirt and their faces are inches apart. He’s breathing heavily and he’s as close to losing control as he’s ever been in his life. Zayn’s staring back at him and for the first time ever, Liam doesn’t recognise him.

It’s enough of a shock that he pauses, completely frozen as he stares at this stranger.

His head jerks back as Zayn’s fingers thread through his hair and tug sharply.

Liam swears before his head falls forward and Zayn’s pushing up to meet him and they’re kissing.

They’re _kissing_.

Zayn yanks on his hair and Liam swears as the pain shoots through him. He shoves Zayn back against the wall but before Zayn can react, Liam brackets him with his body and kisses him again. It’s wet and sloppy and Liam’s never had stubble burn before but he’s pretty sure he’s going to now. He drags a thumb down Zayn’s cheek before trailing down to cup the back of his head. It’s easy to tilt Zayn’s head to one side and even easier to track biting kisses down Zayn’s neck before he starts sucking a bruise into his smooth skin. He wants it to hurt. He wants it to mark. He wants Zayn to feel it long after he’s left, to touch it and trace it and to know that it was made by Liam.

He feels a rush of adrenaline when he hears Zayn’s broken moan and he sucks a little harder. He’s vaguely aware of Zayn’s hands threaded through his hair, tugging hard, and yet he’s pretty sure Zayn’s not trying to pull him off.

“Liam,” Zayn moans before he pulls hard, bringing Liam’s head back up so he can kiss him again. Liam starts clawing at Zayn’s shirt, desperate to get it off to find more skin to mark. He can’t make his fingers work though so he ends up ripping Zayn’s shirt and scrambling to get it off his shoulders. He’s seen Zayn half naked a million times before but this is the first time he’s had the urge to lick his tattoos. He slips his hands down to the curve of Zayn’s back and presses down. Zayn arches upwards and Liam lowers his head to suck a bruise just above his left wing.

Zayn tugs on his vest and Liam lifts his arms, pulling back just long enough for Zayn to strip him of his top before he’s back to sucking on Zayn’s chest and pinning Zayn against the wall with his hands on Zayn’s slim hips. It’s slowly dawning on him how intimately he knows Zayn’s body already and how he knows that if he drags his thumbnail under the waistband of his boxers, Zayn will shudder in his arms.

He’s still pissed and confused and angry so he does it, pleased when Zayn whimpers a little, his head thrown back against the wall.

But it’s not enough. Zayn wrecked them when he left the band. He wrecked Liam. And Liam needs to see Zayn wrecked by _him_.

It’s only fucking fair.

So he slides his hands down over Zayn’s hips and the back of his thighs and he pulls sharply. It’s a move he’s pulled before, playfully hitching Zayn up onto his back. Zayn wraps his legs around Liam’s hips and leans down to kiss him again.

Liam staggers through the hallway and towards his bedroom. He crashes into a few walls and he hears Zayn swearing a few times but they end up in the right room eventually. He drops Zayn onto the bed and immediately reaches for his fly.

Once he’s got Zayn’s jeans down past his hips, he almost forgets to tug them off the rest of the way because he’s distracted by the hardening bulge in Zayn’s pants. He leans down and mouths at his dick through the black cotton. He’s never touched anyone’s dick except his own, but he’s almost desperate to get his hands on Zayn’s.

“Liam,” Zayn groans, burying his hands in Liam’s hair and tugging again. “Fuck, Liam. Please.”

“Please what?” Liam asks, because Zayn’s an asshole and Liam wants him to beg.

He kicks off his own shorts before he climbs up between Zayn’s spread legs and ghosts his hand over Zayn’s dick.

“You’re a fucking dick,” Zayn swears, shoving his own boxers down.

Liam pauses where he’s leaning on his elbows over Zayn and just stares. It’s just a dick, Liam tells himself, but he’s hard as fuck and he knows he’s leaking in his boxers.

“Are you just gonna stare or are you going to do something?” Zayn mutters. He’s avoiding looking at Liam, but Liam doesn’t want that. He wants Zayn to watch every fucking second. He leans down and opens his mouth, licking tentatively at Zayn’s cock. He looks up to find Zayn staring down at him, his eyes wide and his lips parted. Emboldened, Liam laves Zayn’s dick with his tongue. He wants Zayn to come apart, so he sucks Zayn down as far as he can and watches Zayn watching him suck his cock.

“Fucking hell,” Zayn moans, arching his back and bucking up into Liam’s mouth. It makes him cough and pull off for a moment in surprise before he dives back down, sucking and slurping until he can feel Zayn’s body tighten. He pulls back and scoots up to grab the back of Zayn’s head, shoving his tongue into Zayn’s mouth so he can taste himself.

He wraps his hand around Zayn’s slick cock and jerks him off with unsteady strokes while he licks into Zayn’s mouth. He swallows every whimper that Zayn makes, urging him on with a firm grip on his dick.

He hears Zayn curse as he comes into Liam’s hand, sticky and wet.

Liam rubs his other hand through Zayn’s hair, messing it up until he looks utterly dishevelled.

With a sigh, Liam flops down onto the bed next to Zayn. He can hear Zayn panting, trying to catch his breath and it’s strangely satisfying to know that it’s because of him.

“Fuck,” he hears Zayn mutter before he’s crawling over Liam. Instinct has him placing his hands on Zayn’s hips to steady him as he straddles Liam’s thighs. When he looks up, Zayn looks thoroughly debauched and there’s a stubborn set to his jaw that Liam’s missed so much that he softens a little, reaching up to cup Zayn’s cheek and dragging him down for another kiss.

He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

“Your turn,” Zayn says, running his hands down over Liam’s torso. He helplessly arches up into Zayn’s touch, and hisses in surprise when Zayn’s fingers slip under his waistband and yanks his boxers down.

He’s so fucking hard that it hurts in the best way.

Zayn’s touch is exploratory, light brushes of fingers against his cock that tease. He can’t seem to catch his breath, drawing in ragged gulps of air and silently pleading with Zayn to just fucking touch him properly.

When he’s on the edge and unable to take anymore, Liam jerks up onto his elbows and drags Zayn down, smashing their lips together in a messy kiss that quickly shifts into them just breathing into each other’s mouths as Zayn finally, _finally_ wraps his hand around Liam’s leaking cock and starts to wank him off in a sloppy rhythm that drives Liam crazy.

He lets out a steady stream of curses, one hand wrapped around the back of Zayn’s neck as he rocks his hips up desperately. He bites down on Zayn’s lip, his body thrumming happily when he hears Zayn groan. It does the trick though as Zayn finds a better rhythm and between Zayn’s hand on his dick and his mouth on Liam’s, it’s enough to have Liam seeing fucking stars when he comes between them in thick spurts.

They stay locked together, foreheads pressed together as they try to catch their breath. It takes Liam a while to come back to himself, realising belatedly that he’s got his hands on Zayn’s hips and he’s gently stroking bare skin.

He wraps his arms around Zayn’s waist and slowly eases them back until he’s lying on the mattress and Zayn’s sprawled over him.

He doesn’t know what the fuck they’ve just done or what the hell it means, but he’s too tired and confused to work it out right now. He’s blissfully fucked out, he’s got his arms around his best mate for the first time in years, and he needs to sleep.

So he does.

*

Liam wakes up slowly, blinking blearily in confusion at how dark it is. Yawning, he turns onto his side and blinks again.

Zayn’s gone.

His heart starts racing and he turns to flick the light on. A quick scour of the room reveals no note. Nothing. His phone has a few messages waiting but none of them are from Zayn.

He’s run away. Again.

Liam doesn’t even know why he’s surprised.

Sighing, he climbs out of bed, wincing at the mess on his belly and heads for the shower to wash the day – and Zayn – off of him.

*

Liam throws himself into work for the next few days. He runs himself halfway into the ground, staying up til 4am in the studio, laying down tracks that will never see the light of day. He goes for long runs and spends long afternoons with Louis – and sometimes Freddie – writing and avoiding talking – or thinking - about Zayn.

Normally, not talking about Zayn isn’t something he has to work on. After he’d left the band, none of them had talked about him by mutual consent. They’d had to focus on themselves and the band to just get through each day.

Now, Zayn’s name is permanently on the tip of his tongue. He wants to tell Louis everything because Louis is his best mate and normally he’d have some sound advice for him. But it’s Zayn, and Louis can’t be neutral about Zayn. So Liam bites his tongue and doesn’t talk about Zayn, or what they did or what it means.

“Have you seen this then?” Louis asks one lazy afternoon. They’re meant to be writing but Freddie’s here and Liam’s too busy trying to make him laugh – to Louis’ utter amusement – to focus on writing.

“What’s that?” Liam asks distractedly. He’s still trying to teach Freddie peekaboo but the baby isn’t having any of it.

“Zayn’s kicked off at a pap,” Louis says, shoving his iPad in front of Liam.

He’s staring down at Zayn, who looks immaculately put together with perfect hair and perfect clothes. He looks all wrong, Liam thinks dazedly.

“He was a right twat, apparently,” Louis continues. “Shouting and kicking and smashing cameras.”

“That doesn’t sound like him,” Liam says slowly. He’s still staring at Zayn’s angry face. He looks gorgeous. He looks all _wrong_.

“Kid’s spiralling,” Louis says. “That’s what happens when you mug off all your mates.”

“I shagged him,” Liam blurts out. His eyes widen and he smacks his hand over his mouth but he can’t take the words back.

Louis is staring at him. “Are you having a laugh?” he asks finally, sounding utterly confused.

“Saw him last week at that Sony party you didn’t want to come to.”

“You shagged Zayn,” Louis says flatly. “Zayn, our ex-bandmate? Zayn, who left us high and fucking dry?”

Liam nods miserably.

“Huh,” Louis says, before falling silent.

Liam’s about to explode with waiting when Louis reaches for Freddie and picks him up. He puts him down in his crib before grabbing Liam’s arm and tugging him outside onto the balcony.

“Is this something that’s been going on a while?” Louis asks carefully.

Liam shakes his head.

“So you haven’t been pining over Zayn for the past five years?”

“No,” Liam answers, confused. “Course not.”

“Okay, forget about Zayn for a moment,” Louis says thoughtfully. “You shagged a lad.”

“Yeah,” Liam nods in agreement. “Zayn.”

“Yes, thank you Liam, I’ve got that part,” Louis says with a roll of his eyes. “Is he the first lad you’ve shagged?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“So this is a recent development then. You and lads.”

Liam frowns. “I dunno. I think it might just be Zayn. I dunno, I’ve never fancied another lad. I didn’t even know I fancied Zayn until his tongue was down my throat.”

Louis looks bemused. “Okay, so this is a recent thing. That’s good.”

“It is?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods and punches Liam in the arm. Liam looks up, betrayed as he rubs his arm and leans away from Louis. “It means you haven’t kept a major fucking secret from me for five bloody years.”

“Course not,” Liam says.

“But like, Zayn?” Louis sighs and shoves his hand through his hair. “Did it have to be Zayn?”

Liam doesn’t have an answer.

“Of course it had to be Zayn,” Louis continues, slinging his arm around Liam and cuddling him close. Liam shoves his face into Louis’ neck and just collapses. “Look, I think you could have picked someone much better to shag, lad.”

Liam’s torn between vehemently arguing and agreeing wholeheartedly.

“He’s been a right tit,” Louis says, and that’s something Liam can agree with. “But he’s Zayn.”

“Yeah,” Liam sighs. “He’s Zayn.”

They sit in silence for a while, until Liam sits up and rubs his hand over his face.

“So what are yous two doing then? Are you still shagging?”

Liam laughs flatly. “Nah mate. He fucked off while I was asleep.”

“Fucker,” Louis says succinctly.

“Yeah.”

“Well, his fucking loss, mate.” Louis stands up and ruffles Liam’s hair until Liam has to shove him off with a grin. “Zayn always did make shitty choices.”

Louis disappears back into the house to check on Freddie, leaving Liam to lean on the balcony and look out into the garden, scattered with footballs, an inflatable paddling pool and two basketballs. It’s shockingly easy to remember the feel of Zayn’s lips on his and the careful, shy way he’d touched Liam in his bedroom. “Not always,” he says. “Not all of them.”

*

Liam ends his rental lease a month early and flies home. He spends two weeks cooking everything in _Jamie’s Comfort Food_ and burning it all off in his gym. He listens to Pillowtalk on repeat and he jerks off more than he’s ever wanked in his life.

It’s late on a Friday night when his phone explodes. Experience tells him that his name is going to be all over twitter and probably the tabloids in the morning, but for once he’s pretty sure he hasn’t done anything. He hasn’t tweeted anything in over a week and he’s barely left his house. He’s not even had a bloody drink.

It’s with trepidation that he picks up his phone and opens twitter. He checks worldwide trends first, and Zayn is number one, he’s number six. His heart starts racing as he looks at his mentions.

**@zaynmalik thankin @real_liam_payne OMGGGGG!**

**ZAYN THANKING LIAM I’M DYING @zaynmalik @real_liam_payne**

**ZIAMMMM IS REALL ASFGGGG &%%%£&&! @real_liam_payne @zaynmalik**

Confused, Liam clicks on a link to find a picture of Zayn staring back at him. He looks gorgeous as usual, Liam thinks, thoroughly irritated. He scrolls down the article about Zayn’s attendance at the Asian Awards.

_“Yeah no I don’t really speak to the lads,” Malik says. “I saw Liam the other day though. He said he loved the album and he was really proud of me. It meant a lot, you know? He’s always been really supportive, and that’s amazing, after everything we’ve been through. He’s still one of my best mates and a huge inspiration for me. I wanna thank him, because without him, I wouldn’t have any of this.”_

Liam sits back and stares up at the ceiling. His phone is still in his hand and he flicks open his messages. He has to scroll for a while before he finds the last message he sent Zayn. It’s almost a year old and he can’t bear to read it now.

_**ur still one of my best mates. always will be :)** _

He stares at the screen, willing those three little dots to appear with Zayn’s response. But after five minutes, he puts his phone away and goes to bed to have a shameful wank over his ex-bandmate.

*

Sunday finds Liam on his sofa after his workout. There’s a half-eaten bacon sarnie on his coffee table and he’s watching an old episode of Storage Hunters, dressed in his oldest trackies and a t-shirt that used to be black but has faded over the years to a dark grey.

When the doorbell rings, he’s tempted to ignore it. Paddy’s gone home for a few days so he’s alone and he wants to keep it that way. Curiosity has him moving to the surveillance system to check who it is, and there’s an unfamiliar black car waiting at the gate. He sets the camera to zoom in and immediately presses the release button to let Zayn in.

He briefly considers changing except there’s no time and Zayn’s seen him in way, way worse.

Liam opens the door just as Zayn reaches it and there’s an awkward moment where they simply stare at each other. Liam has no idea what he should say and can hardly hold onto one thought before his mind races onto another.

Zayn seems similarly confused.

“Hey,” Liam says eventually when too much time has passed and they’re both still just standing there.

When Zayn steps forward, Liam meets him halfway. Zayn’s touch is softer, his fingers stroking through Liam’s hair as they kiss and Liam slides his hands up Zayn’s back, pulling him inside and somehow closing the door behind them without pulling apart.

“Your hair,” Liam manages to say as he tugs Zayn’s top up over his head. “All wrong.”

Zayn’s confusion turns to a grin when Liam threads his fingers through Zayn’s hair and musses it up. It’s familiar territory now to help Zayn take off his own top and ghost his hands over Zayn’s warm skin.

“I can walk this time,” Zayn gasps as Liam trails kisses down his throat and flicks his thumbs over Zayn’s nipples at the same time. “To your bedroom.”

It takes them twice as long to get there this time, since Zayn refuses to let Liam carry him and they keep pausing to push each other against the wall to kiss and grope each other. They’re naked by the time they fall through the door of Liam’s bedroom and Zayn topples Liam into the bed.

This time there’s laughter in the air as Liam rolls Zayn onto his back and pins him to the bed. “No fair,” Zayn murmurs, even though he’s not putting up much of a struggle. “You’re too strong.”

“And you never hit the weights,” Liam counters, grinning as he nips at Zayn’s shoulder.

Liam takes it slow this time, learning all the different things that make Zayn whimper and shake in his arms. He doesn’t want a race to the finish line this time, unless it’s a fucking marathon. He learns every inch of Zayn’s body in new ways until Zayn looks just as wrecked as last time he had Zayn in his bed.

When he reaches for Zayn’s dick and starts to slide down his body, Zayn grabs Liam’s arms and with a surprising amount of strength, hauls Liam back up.

“Fuck me,” he pleads, letting his legs fall open in an invitation that has Liam’s heart pounding.

“Yeah?”

Zayn wraps his hand around Liam’s wrist and guides his hand down between his legs, making Liam groan and drop his head to Zayn’s shoulder.

“Please,” Zayn murmurs, brushing his other hand through Liam’s hair. “I need you to.”

They go slow, since Liam doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing and Zayn doesn’t seem much better. He’s pretty sure he uses too much lube and he’s not sure whether three fingers are enough or if he should try for four. Zayn’s writhing on his sheets beneath him though, begging for Liam’s dick and in five years, Liam’s never been able to say no to Zayn.

He’s drenched in sweat by the time he slides fully into Zayn, concentrating on not hurting either of them and holding himself up. He doesn’t let himself relax until Zayn pulls him down and rolls his hips. Something in him eases when Zayn comes between them, Liam’s name on his lips and his fingers digging painfully into Liam’s shoulders.

His own orgasm takes a little longer but he comes with Zayn wrapped around him and beautiful brown eyes staring up at him.

When he finally pulls out, he wraps his arms and body around Zayn, ignoring his protests about being the little spoon. Liam’s pretty sure he’s going to fall asleep again, just like last time, but he’s determined not to let Zayn slip away. Not this time.

*

“I forgot how fucking hot you run.”

Liam mumbles something unintelligible under his breath and tightens his arms, grinning as Zayn grumbles and tries to wriggle away with no luck.

“Seriously. Get the fuck off me before I pass out.”

“Your pillowtalk is shit, mate,” Liam murmurs, pressing his lips against Zayn’s shoulder.

“Fuck off,” Zayn says good-naturedly. He turns in Liam’s arms and slides his leg between Liam’s.

“Hey.” Liam can’t stop himself from grinning because Zayn’s still here. “You didn’t run away.”

Zayn’s eyes darken. “Did you want me to?”

“I didn’t want you to run away last time,” Liam says honestly. “Felt like shit, waking up alone.”

Zayn closes his eyes and trails his hand over Liam’s hip. “Sorry. I’m really sorry, Liam. I didn’t think the first time we’d have sex would be when we were both angry with each other.”

Liam’s eyebrows shoot up. “You thought about us having sex?”

“I thought it could happen,” Zayn says, opening his eyes and shrugging. His hand stops moving though and tightens on Liam’s hip. “Thought it was probably a long time coming.”

“Oh,” Liam says in surprise. He’s starting to see their entire friendship in a different light, and he’s flushing.

Zayn lets him readjust, staying silent and moving his hands over Liam’s body in slow, careful strokes. “This is sick,” he says eventually, his thumb brushing over the roses on Liam’s hand.

“Thanks.” Liam’s gaze moves to the lotus flower on Zayn’s arm. “Rebirth, right?”

“Thought it was fitting,” Zayn says, biting down on his bottom lip. “Thought I was moving on, but I guess I didn’t go as far as I thought I would.”

“What about now?” Liam asks. His stomach feels like it’s tied in knots, all painful and aching. “What is this?”

“I dunno,” Zayn says softly. He leans in to kiss Liam, a simple brush of their lips. “It’s complicated. The lads will kick off, I reckon. They’ll think I’m messing you around.”

Liam doesn’t bother asking if that’s true. He knows better. “I dunno what they’ll think. Louis knows. He didn’t get angry or anything. He didn’t seem that surprised, to be honest.”

Zayn’s lips twitch like he wants to smile at that. “Yeah.”

“So I don’t think he’d like, be a problem. If this was a thing. A serious thing.” Liam glances down at where their hands are clasped together and wonders when that happened. “But I don’t know what they’d think. It won’t be easy, I think.”

Zayn sighs but he keeps quiet.

“I mean, they stayed,” Liam continues because he’s never been good at shutting up and keeping his thoughts to himself. “They stayed when you left. We were a team, like it was the four of us against the world. They stayed and you didn’t.”

“What if I stayed?” Zayn asks softly. He places his hand on Liam’s cheek. “What if I stayed this time? This fits, Liam. This fits like the band never quite did. We fit.”

“I don’t know,” Liam says honestly. He shuffles closer and kisses Zayn, hard and desperate. He wants it to fit so badly. “It’d be a start, I guess.”

Zayn says nothing but he rolls onto his back and pulls Liam into his arms. Liam rests his head on Zayn’s chest.

“I missed you so much,” he murmurs.

Zayn shifts so their legs are tangled together, his arm curling around Liam’s waist and squeezing hard. “I missed you too,” Zayn says. “Don’t ever want to let you go again.”

The words hurt at first. But he traces his finger over Zayn’s lotus flower and smiles. And he relaxes, just a little.


End file.
